“But did you ever get the feeling that there was stuff going on with Meg, stuff from her past that she didn’t tell you?”

The words are out of my mouth before I even knew I was thinking them. Mum stops rubbing, pulls her hands away. I look up at her, her lip reddening as she starts to bite it again.

“What are you talking about, Cara?”

“It’s just, you were saying that Meg knew about teenagers. I was wondering if Grace ever seemed older to you?”

Mum is looking at me like she doesn’t recognize me, like I’m a stranger to her.

“What do you know that you’re not telling me?” she asks, her voice shrill, her numb state giving way to panic. “Cara, I don’t know what you’re trying to get at, but I’m only just holding it together so please don’t—”

Mum stands so suddenly her chair falls with a clatter behind her. The noise shocks us both. People turn to stare. She says “Sorry, sorry” but her words are muffled because she’s covering her face with her hand. Martin moves forward to pick up her chair and Mum says, “No, it’s all right,” more to herself than to Martin, “I’m all right,” before she breaks and starts crying into her hands, really crying, the deep, guttural kind that’s rarely public. She makes noises like I’ve never heard before: raw, animal.

Zara drops Molly’s hand and moves towards us. The whole room seems to hold its breath, everyone waiting for what will happen next. I’ve never seen her like this, so stripped back, so exposed. I want to go to her, hold her, but I don’t because this is my fault. I’ve upset her, I’ve made things worse, by being here I’ve made things worse. I shouldn’t have come, I have to get out of here. As I turn to leave, someone moves forward and tries to take my arm to stop me but I shrug the hand away. I don’t want to be touched, they don’t feel like the hands of a friend. People stand back from me as I stumble, blinded by my own tears, towards the door. Outside, the air feels thick with rain. I scramble in my bag for Mum’s car keys and run without looking across the road. A car screeches to a halt just a few feet away from me. The driver beeps his horn and a man calls out of the car window, “You bloody idiot!” but I hardly hear him. I feel as though the whole world is staring at me as I drive away.

Not knowing where else to go, I start driving back to the Point. I want to feel the same wind Grace felt, hear the same waves hitting sharp rocks. I want to know that real, solid world—to get away from the horrifying freefall of Mum’s agony.

But when I stop at a crossroads, about to turn right, a road sign pointing left catches my eye: PEACEWAYS CREMATORIUM AND CEMETERY. I must have driven past it hundreds of times but I’ve never turned left here. Danny’s buried there, I’m sure of it. No one’s mentioned Danny all day. It’s as though he’s quietly died a second death through his mum and sister. Grace told me once about visiting his grave, how Meg had bought the plots surrounding it. Grace said it was weird to think that one day she’d be buried there, next to her brother. She showed me a photo on Meg’s phone. I only glanced at it for a moment; the stuffed toys they’d left propped up next to the headstone sent a cold shiver straight through me. I try hard to remember anything else from the photo but all I can see is a weeping willow tree in the far corner.